Pretty Dangerous (21 page)

When MiMi pulled up to a red light, she
glanced into the rear view mirror at herself. “Okay. Here’s the
plan, girl. Keep doing a damn good job and let the dollars speak
for you.”

With her determination to hang tough firmly
back in place, MiMi set out for her next stop. She pulled into the
busy parking lot of Costco. The huge plain building reminded her of
exactly what it was, a warehouse. Inside was a lot more welcoming
though. A sleek white Acura sedan drove behind her SUV. At first
MiMi didn’t find it odd. Other cars circled as shoppers looked for
empty spaces or waited for cars to pull out. MiMi grabbed her
leather hobo bag. Then she noticed the car didn’t move. She waved
toward the store.

“I just got here,” MiMi called to the driver.
When there was no response, she shrugged and started to leave.

“Yeah, I know,” a voice called back. “You
stopped at the drive through window of the Smoothie Palace, dropped
off your kid and headed here.”

MiMi squinted at the stranger through her
sunglasses, her heart thumping. Here was proof she wasn’t being
paranoid. “Who are you?”

The woman’s thick natural hair was swept back
into a neat bundle of curls. Her full mouth curved up. Dark wine
lipstick set against her nut brown skin accentuated the sensual
look. She was dressed in navy blue pins stripped suit. The heels of
her dark red pumps clicked on the pavement as she took a few steps
closer.

“Who do you think, sweetie?”

MiMi started to give a tart reply about
wasting her time, but stopped. She and the woman removed their
sunglasses in sync. They gazed at each other in silence. It took a
few seconds, but then MiMi hissed. “You.”

“So you didn’t recognize me. Yvette Theirry.
Nice to finally meet you.” Yvette’s smile lacked any trace if
friendliness.

“It took a minute. Now if you’d been naked,
bent over and grunting like a pig in heat... well, that would have
helped a lot.” MiMi put her sunglasses back on.

Yvette’s smiled slipped a notch. “Hope you
enjoyed the visual of me giving your fiancé what you couldn’t.”

“You mean an STD?” MiMi shot back.

“Listen, you little pie-faced bitch. You
might have been the society princess he was going to wed. But I’m
the freak he just loved to bed. Every chance he got. He’d leave you
and call me. You didn’t have what it took,” Yvette spat.

“What I had was a marriage proposal. Roderick
wasn’t going to take you home to meet his folks. His parents are
allergic to trash.”

“I could pound your silly ass into this
pavement right here, right now,” Yvette growled.

MiMi dropped her purse on the ground and
spread her arms out. “I just wish you would, heffa.”

The woman huffed like an enraged lioness for
a few seconds, but she didn’t make a move. Finally she took a step
back. “I have bets placed on how long it takes the police to arrest
you for Rod’s murder. Jealous society princess goes after him when
she finds out he was in love with another woman. Thank goodness for
anonymous tips.” She smiled at MiMi’s reaction.

“You evil rotten...” MiMi stammered as she
searched for a foul enough insult to hurl.

Yvette cackled. “Good luck with the
investigation, honey. I’ll help all I can. Help the DA get evidence
to convict you that is.”

“You’re insane!” MiMi shouted. “But for the
record, Roderick wasn’t in love with you. He begged me to forgive
him. He said, and this is a direct quote, ‘She was a big mistake
and it didn’t mean anything to me’.”

“You’re a liar,” Yvette hurled at her.

“Face it, sweetie. You were barely a bump in
the road on his way to me.” MiMi gave a sharp, nasty laugh.

“I’ll be watching when the police put the
cuffs on you,” Yvette screeched.

“By the way thanks for helping me. I know
your name. Roderick told me you’re an attorney, too. Did work for
the Chamber of Commerce. Quite the career, he said. I can tell the
police all about you.” MiMi placed a finger under her chin and
struck a pose. “Hmm, let’s see. Enraged side piece learns her lover
plans to dump her and marry another woman. I believe you lawyers
call that reasonable doubt.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch!” Yvette pounded the
hood of her BMW. She spun around and stomped to the passenger door.
Only then did she notice a group of onlookers. “What the fuck are
you assholes looking at? Mind your own damn business.”

“Have a good one,” MiMi shouted over the roar
of the Acura’s engine.

Yvette drove off much too fast and barely
missed another car. She laid on the horn and gave the other drive
the finger. Seconds later she peeled off. The horn sounded three
more times before MiMi guessed she exited the car lot. Only then
did MiMi give in to fear. She leaned against the SUV as her legs
went weak.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” A lanky redheaded
teenager said. An older woman peered over his shoulder. “Mom called
security in the store.”

His mother mustered enough courage to step
around her son. “They should be here any minute. I got her license
plate just in case. You should get a protective order, sugar. Over
a man, right?” The woman had dark auburn hair and freckles.

“Mom, seriously?” Her son wore an embarrassed
frown.

“My second ex-husband put me through it. His
mistress called me at work. Take my advice and get rid of the bum.”
The woman gave a sharp nod.

“Already taken care of,” MiMi muttered. She
squinted in the direction Yvette had gone.

****

Three and half hours later Jazz showed up at
MiMi’s house for lunch. Their get together was decidedly more urban
casual in fact than lunch with Adrienne. They sat on MiMi’s patio.
The April heat promised the typical south Louisiana summer to come.
A breeze stirred making the late spring day pleasant. Still they
also sat outside so Jazz could smoke her usual cigarillos.

“You need to give up those things.” MiMi
stared at her uneaten chicken salad sandwich from Jason’s Deli. She
loved their gourmet version of the dish, but her appetite was
off.

“You could use one after facing Satan’s
second cousin this morning,” Jazz retorted. She shook her head as
she tapped the end of the cigarillo on the ash tray. “Damn, the
crazy is real. She’s actually going after you. I mean shit; the man
is stone cold dead.”

“Please, be a little more sensitive. He was
my fiancé after all,” MiMi murmured. She chewed on her fingernail.
“Thanks for adding me to your Costco membership card. I’ll need to
stock up on staples when I lose my job.”

“Stop thinking the worse is about to happen.”
Jazz waved a hand.

MiMi laughed so hard she bent double for a
few seconds. Seconds later she gasped for air until she could talk.
“The FBI, the local cops, a Dominican cartel and a crazy woman. I’m
already up to my neck in the worse that could happen.”

Jazz gaped at her for several seconds before
she burst out laughing. “You’re right. Anything else got to be a
big improvement. You just stole my damn record for being in deep
shit.” She howled.

“Stop it,” MiMi rasped between giggles. “I’m
going to pee in my pants.”

“Wait, wait. I got something worse. Your mama
and daddy move in with you.” Jazz pointed at MiMi and snapped her
fingers.

MiMi let out a squeak of horror. Wiped her
eyes and took a gulp of her lemonade. “If I lose everything, I
could have to move in with them.”

Jazz put out her cigarillo. “Nope, you don’t.
My business is going good. I bought a small complex of condos as an
investment. Got a good deal on it before gentrification sent prices
way up. The renovation is about finished.”

“You’re kidding.”

“If you don’t mind living in a house bought
with the profits from almost naked pole dancers, it’s all yours.”
Jazz’s pretty cinnamon brown eyes sparkled.

MiMi sat still and quiet for a few minutes,
tears sliding down her face. Then she was sobbing into both hands.
Jazz put one arm around her shoulder and kept handing her paper
napkins. MiMi tried to gain control, but it was no use. So she rode
the wave of her crying jag. After a minute or so, she hiccupped to
a halt. Blinking hard, she blew into the wad of soggy napkins.

“Here, dump that mess in here.” Jazz stood
next to her holding the kitchen trash can.

“Thanks.” MiMi tossed them in, then went into
the half bath on the first floor. She returned to the patio after
freshening up.

“Feel better?” Jazz lit another
cigarillo.

“Yes.”

“Good for you. Now my damn nerves are shot.
Dealing with hysterical folks ain’t in my vocabulary.” Jazz puffed
and aimed a stream of smoke over her head.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re trying to play so cool.
But you put it on the line for people you care about. Willa is the
same; Mama Ruby, Mr. Elton, your brothers. Even Cedric and Kay are
so good to me.” MiMi’s lip trembled.

Hey, don’t start again. Sheesh.”

MiMi sniffed. “What you offered means a lot
to me. I tried to hang tough for the past few weeks. It seems like
the entire universe is out to get me in one way or another.”

“I know that feeling.” Jazz sat forward.
“Look, just how crazy is this whatever-her-name-is bitch?”

“Yvette Theirry, and I’ll bet crazy is her
middle name. She had this wild look in her eyes. I think she was
obsessed with Roderick, almost like she owned him.” MiMi shook her
head as she remembered their encounter.

“Hmm, crazy enough to kill him sounds like.
We need to keep eyes on her. A psycho like that could do something
nuts like set your house on fire, with you in it.” Jazz stabbed out
her cigarillo. She took out her cell phone and texted.

“Yeah, well I lost my temper and made things
worse.” MiMi let her head fall back.

“How?” Jazz continued to text.

“I called her a side piece, Roddy’s freak for
a temporary thrill. But his real life would be with me.” MiMi
heaved a deep sigh and reached for the glass of lemonade.

“Truth?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. Roderick would
have married me. A lot of society wives look the other way to keep
their fancy lifestyles.”

“I’m shocked,” Jazz drawled, still texting
persons unknown for the moment.

MiMi sat forward. “I couldn’t play by those
rules. You know my sister basically told me that’s how her marriage
is? The perfect upper-class family in the big house is just a
front. Chris has a lover. She all but admitted she has one,
too.”

“Gasp. You’ve shaken my faith in
humanity.”

“I’m serious, Jazz. I always thought Adrienne
would gut Chris if she found out he had a mistress. But she
shrugged it off.” MiMi relaxed back in her chair and sipped more
lemonade.

“Fascinating,” Jazz mumbled without looking
up from her phone.

“Guess they’ve grown jaded, love turned to
bitterness. Like Mother and Daddy.” MiMi gasped, eyes wide. “You
don’t think my parents have lovers? No, I don’t even want to think
about it.”

“Then don’t, but they probably have gotten
their freak on at some point,” Jazz tossed back casually still
reading the screen.

“Oh geez, thanks for putting that picture in
my brain,” MiMi blurted out.

“Okay, look, Willa and Cedric are going to
get information on Yvette the Weird. If she makes a move to head
this way, my guys will deal with her.” Jazz tapped a message and
then put the cell phone on the table.

“You’re going to have them shoot her or
something!” MiMi grabbed Jazz’s arm.

Jazz shook free and picked up her glass of
cola. “Stop being a soap opera drama queen. You think I go around
ordering hits on people? Don’t answer.”

“Well, you have been known to hang out with
gangsters. Guys with gold chains, no jobs and lots of cash,” MiMi
said.

She rolled her eyes at MiMi. “Marlon, D-Day
and Zedonté work security for me at the club and my rental
property.”

“D-Day?”

“He knows how to launch an all-out attack
when needed, but he’s reformed. Mostly.” Jazz shrugged. “The point
is they’re not gang members.”

“You mean they’re not gang members now,” MiMi
added.

“Exactly the kind of security I need.
Reverend Fisher ran them through the program at his church. They’re
good guys. All they want is to live normal and not have to watch
their backs twenty-four seven. Street life is no fun, take it from
me.” Jazz stared down MiMi’s attempt at passing judgment.

MiMi raised both palms out. “I’ll take your
word for it. You’re like the Mother Teresa of former gangstas.”

Jazz let out a howl of outrage along with a
string of cuss words. The musical chimes sounded, a signal someone
was at the front door. MiMi laughed all the way through the house
to answer. She peeped outside to see a short brown woman. A tall
uniformed policewoman was beside her. Not good news from the
stone-faced expression they wore. She swung open the door.

“Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon. I’m Mrs. Ola Young with the
Louisiana Department of Children and Families. Ms. MiMi Landry?”
The woman gazed at MiMi.

“Yes.” MiMi glanced from her to the police
officer.

The woman flashed a plastic card with a bad
picture on it. “Here is my identification. And my card. May we come
in?”

MiMi stared at the identification. Then she
took the card. “Wait a minute. You’re with the agency that licenses
day care centers. Is Sage alright?”

“Nothing happened at the day care center, and
your daughter is safe. May we come in?” Mrs. Young’s tone sounded
less like a question than an order.

“Okay, but I expect answers and fast.”

MiMi swung the heavy door wide. She examined
the two women as they walked by her. Once she pushed the door
closed, MiMi led them deeper inside the house. The policewoman’s
gaze seemed to take in the foyer and living room with professional
efficiency. Most likely the officer would have been able to
describe every significant detail she noticed.